


The Stranger the Better

by Lestradesexwife



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Coping, M/M, Memory Loss, Vision loss, description of previous violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:22:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3648468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/pseuds/Lestradesexwife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry survived the church in Kentucky, but is not undamaged.<br/>A slightly realistic approach to Harry's survival, I am not a neurologist, i know nothing about brains, and I don't know if this is a thing that brains would do in this situation, but I also don't care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everyday Just a Little

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this unbeta'd, so if you see any glaringly horrible grammar or whatnot... shoot me a message and i will fix it.

Harry wakes in his bed.

Surely that’s not right. His heart pounds and he throws aside the covers, slides his feet to the floor. He leans over and checks the drawer of his nightstand for his pistol. He cocks his head at the leather bound journal sitting on top of the familiar pistol.

He picks the book up and turns it over in his hands. It gives every impression of being well used and written in, he can see gaps in the pages where there have been additions to the pages, a small scrap of newsprint sticks out along the bottom edge.

Harry flips it open to the page with the largest addition, a five by seven photograph. He feels heat rise in his face at the sight of a young man, sprawled fully naked in a disheveled bed. Harry squints at the background of the photo, no… it isn’t any bed, it is the one he is currently sitting on. The facing page says only “Eggsy.” in what Harry recognizes as his own handwriting.

He clears his throat and turns the page.

_Gary “Eggsy” Unwin. Despises being called Gary. If I ask him he will tell me he loves me. To the best of my ability to discern this is true, I confess that I love him as well. From the contents of this document I can deduce that I have forgotten him, and our relationship at least twice before._

Harry blinks and looks away from the book and then flips back to the picture. The young man in the picture is at least half of his age, but the smile on his face is flirtatious, genuine if Harry is any judge of character, if the photo… well there’s no guarantee the person Eggsy is flirting with is Harry.

Harry takes a breath and flips to the front of the book. Beginning at the beginning for what it is worth.

_Your name is Harry Hart. Your codename was Galahad. You were a spy, in the service of the Kingsmen. Until Richmond Valentine shot you in the face in front of a church in Kentucky. You were dead. The American paramedics brought you back, you were in hospital while the world went briefly mad, Eggsy and the Kingsmen sorted it out, they won’t tell you much._

__

_You lost an eye, and there was some damage to several parts of your brain. Unfortunately these prevent you from returning to service with the Kingsmen._

__

_Regrettably the damage to your brain also interferes with your ability to create and maintain long term memories. Chances are if you are reading this, and it is terribly cliched, but if you are reading this you have likely forgotten all or most of the last year._

Harry’s hand has travelled to his face while he read, feeling along the edges of where his eye should be. Aware of the loss in his vision, it is shocking, but not panic inducing. His brain and his body have had time to heal, to work around the loss of his eye, even if he doesn’t remember it. The scar tissue is old and smooth, he thinks that it has been more than a year. He closes the book and drops it onto his lap, scrubbing his face with his hands. He allows himself a moment to grieve for the loss of the life he does remember and then picks up the book again to try and piece together the life he doesn’t.

 

 


	2. Backed up Against a Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another morning.

Harry’s feet hit the floor and his gun is retrieved from his nightstand before he is fully conscious. The noise that woke him persists in the kitchen, probably not professionals then but even amateurs can get lucky… if an agent gets cocky, assumes he’s untouchable.

He knows the house almost as well as his own body, has no trouble at all making his way downstairs without making any noise. The sounds from the kitchen become a pattern, the sound of a whisk in a bowl, a pause and then the sound of something hitting a hot skillet.

Harry pauses in the hall, frowns. Someone is cooking in his kitchen? He lifts his gun and leads with it as he turns the corner into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” He tries to keep the incredulity out of his voice, as though it was perfectly normal to walk into his kitchen to find a man cooking. A man in pajama bottoms, without a shirt, no socks or shoes… a man with the upper body of a Greek statue… making french toast.

“Mornin’ I’m makin _pain a perdu_.” The man turns to face Harry, holding a spatula in one hand.

Harry’s hand doesn’t falter, the gun remains steady as he points it at the intruder. He tracks along the sight to centre his aim on the man’s chest as he moves. “What are you doing in my house?”

He’s not surprised, nor shocked, Harry’s aim almost falters at the sadness in the stranger’s face, even as he raises his hands, opening his grip on the spatula to let it fall to the floor.

The clatter of the spatula sets Harry’s nerves on edge. “Answer me. I will shoot.”

“I know you will, Harry. I’m Eggsy. I live here too.” He lifts his hands higher, spreads his fingers as he speaks.

“Don’t move.” Harry takes a moment to gather details about ‘Eggsy’ to register that he’s wearing a pair of Kingsman glasses, stark against the comfortable pajamas and… naked informality of the rest of him. “Why are you wearing my glasses?”

“ _He was using them to watch videos on zesting oranges_.” Merlin’s voice comes through loud and clear over the pick up. “ _Galahad do you require assistance_?”

“No, Arthur. I’m good.” Eggsy answers before Harry has a chance to speak.

“ _Very well, Avalon protocol is on standby_.”

Eggsy closes his eyes. “Thank you, Arthur.”

“He’s not Arthur, he’s Merlin. And I’m Galahad.” Harry feels… anger bubbling up in his chest. Frustration… this is wrong… everything is wrong.

Eggsy nods. “He was Merlin, now he’s Arthur. I’m Galahad now, I’m sorry Harry… you're retired.”

“Kingsmen don’t retire, they die.”

“I’m sorry, Harry… I’m so sorry. Y’did.” His voice cracks. “Y’did, and I lost you. I’m sorry, it took us so long to find you after.” Eggsy sways, but doesn’t drop his head or break eye contact with Harry.

Something tingles at the back of Harry’s mind. “What’s Avalon protocol?”

Eggsy’s eyes shift, focusing on the barrel of Harry’s pistol for a long moment and then back to Harry’s face. “If you kill me. They will come and tidy me up, take everything of mine out of the house. We think… we think you probably won’t remember me… if I’m gone. Arthur won’t ever mention me again.”

“I think I’d remember killing you.” Harry flinches at the idea. He’s killed many people over the years, and he can’t name them all, but he knows that he’s done it.

Eggsy’s arms falter, dipping slightly before he pulls them back up. “Do you remember meeting me… when I was little, or pulling me out of the knick? Do you remember ‘Oxfords, not Brogues?”

Harry’s aim falters, the gun gliding away from Eggsy’s chest. “You aren’t… how can you be?” He drops his gaze, focuses on the gun, ejects the cartridge and checks the bullets, ejects the one in the chamber. “These are real. This is real and I could have killed you, and you’d _let_ me?” Harry’s head twists to the side, the words grinding out of him. “How could you _let me_?”

“Harry! M’sorry, please… please, it’s been so long. You found the blanks last time… you didn’t believe me… they don’t know why… something about stress, and you nearly had a stroke… M’sorry I thought I lost you again, y’were in a coma… and when you woke up and remembered it all and made me promise… I trust you Harry. We all do, Avalon is for you… so you don’t have to…” Words spill out of Eggsy in a rush.

Harry drops the two pieces of the gun. “ _Last_ time? How many…” He looks up and meets Eggsy’s eyes. “How many times?”

“Four, in three years. Harry I swear… this is only the fourth time… it’s fine. We’re fine.” Eggsy takes two steps forward. “You… you’re fine, Harry, it’s alright.”

Harry’s knees go out from under him and Eggsy dashes to catch him before he can hit the ground. “Four? Why are you here?”

Eggsy pulls Harry close, wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders. “You sent me away after the second one… I went to stay with Roxy… that lasted two weeks. It doesn’t work… the two of us apart… please believe me… it’s better this way. I want… I want to be here… I swear it. I’m with you Harry, no matter what.”

****  
  
  


Merlin waits until Eggsy retrieves the gun, until after he throws away the burnt piece of french toast and settles Harry down to read his journal. Until it is fairly obvious that Harry is not going to fly into a murderous rage at his memory loss and snap Eggsy’s neck. Merlin waits until they are as safe as Kingsman agents ever are before he sighs and taps the pickup for Roxy. “Stand down Lancelot, we’re clear.”

“That was too fucking close, Merlin.”

“I’m aware, thank you Lancelot. I’ll have him in for some tests.”

“Do, please.” She starts breaking down her sniper rifle before the connection cuts out.

Merlin scrubs his hands over his face before he types out a message to relay to Eggsy’s glasses. _Bring him in_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've no idea where this is going to take me. I've no schedule and I should be working on other stories, but my brain is invaded by kingsman emotions.
> 
> patience grasshoppers


End file.
